It's Not a Bird!
by alynwa
Summary: Originally written for the Picfic Tuesday on LJ.


Mr. Waverly looked around at the agents assembled at his conference table as they watched some footage of what appeared to be a flying saucer streaking across the daylight skies of the Las Vegas Valley. When the tape ran out and Miss Rogers turned on the lights, he puffed on his unlit pipe and then asked, "Thoughts, Lady and Gentlemen?"

"Sir," April responded, "who filmed that…thing?"

"The military base at Fort Nellis captured the saucer on film and released a statement to the press saying that what the public saw was a prototype for a new weather balloon. So far, that hasn't been questioned too deeply." He looked at Illya. "Mr. Kuryakin, you are the most science – minded of everyone here. What do you think it is?"

Illya cleared his throat and replied, "I am not sure what it is, but I do not think it is anything extraterrestrial. The exhaust coming from it looked very much like what one would expect to see from a jet and the sound, though muffled, sounded jet – like to me, also."

"Very observant, Mr. Kuryakin. I had a conference call with President Johnson and he shared with me that the CIA has reason to believe this is new technology THRUSH is developing. The President has asked UNCLE to take the lead as the CIA is barred from operations on US soil. They think the craft is stored in the mountains bordering the southeast side of the valley. Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, Miss Dancer and Mr. Slate; you are to proceed to Nevada immediately to locate and either take possession or destroy this so – called saucer before THRUSH throws the entire country into a full blown panic."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

Four figures clad in black with grease – paint covered faces moved stealthily along the cliff face toward what, upon first glance, had appeared to be the remains of a rockslide, but upon closer inspection via binoculars was a cleverly disguised door.

April was moving nimbly among the rocks, guided by the full moon's light. Her compatriots followed, moving slightly slower as they all weighed more and had to be sure of their hand and footholds. "Guys, be careful where you put your hands; it's warm enough for rattlesnakes to be out here," she whispered fiercely.

"Lovely," Napoleon muttered as he brought up the rear, "And here I was just worrying about coyotes."

They stopped climbing when they were approximately thirty yards from the entrance. Keeping low to the ground, they waited as Illya and Mark surveyed their surroundings with their binoculars. "It is so like THRUSH to not have sentries on the exterior of their base. There is a camera to the right of the doorway."

"I can shoot out the lens from here," Napoleon said, "Someone should come out to check it out and when they do…"

"We'll storm in like gangbusters and take over," Mark finished the thought. "Piece of cake."

It wasn't exactly like gangbusters, but minutes after Napoleon shot out the camera lens, three THRUSH soldiers stepped out of the raised door and were promptly darted. The four agents donned gas masks and then shot canisters of tear gas into the opening. Immediately, they could hear screaming and yelling as peoples' eyes began to burn and they began to cough violently.

In the ensuing chaos, they were able to sneak in under the cover of the gas clouds. The saucer – like machine sat in the middle of the floor on what looked like hydraulic lifts. There was a ladder leaning against it that led to an open hatch so they quickly climbed up and into the craft.

Mark stepped through and closed the door behind him. Looking around quickly, he removed his mask and said, "I'm a little disappointed; it looks like the inside of a Lear jet to me."

"That is because, basically, it _is _a Lear jet," Illya answered. He had moved to sit in the pilot's seat and found what appeared to be a pilot's manual. "There are some modifications. This craft has the ability to hover like a helicopter and it has had its body modified to give it a round shape, but it is still a small jet."

April sat in the co – pilot's seat. "Can you fly it, Darling?"

"I believe so; the controls are largely unchanged."

Napoleon chanced a look out the window. "The gas is starting to dissipate and, dumb as THRUSH goons are, somebody's going to add two plus two and figure we climbed in here."

"Just a few moments more, Napoleon." He scanned the control panel in a cursory pre – flight check. "There is enough fuel. Strap in! I will have to fly it like a chopper to get out of the cave and then jump start the jet engines. Hopefully, they will rev up fast enough to give us lift before we slam into the grounds below.

"Mark, contact Mr. Waverly and advise him that we're going to attempt to fly this thing to Nellis Air Force Base! Ask him to let them know we're coming so that they don't shoot us down like invaders from outer space."

Napoleon had replaced his darts with live rounds as he watched THRUSH soldiers race around looking for the intruders. One of them looked at the ladder and raised his head up to gaze at the jet. _Uh oh. _"We're out of time! Punch it, Partner!"

Illya started flipping toggle switches and the small, hidden rotor blades secreted in the rounded body began to spin. They could also hear bullets beginning to ricochet off the body. "Hang on!" the Russian yelled as he pulled the control back. The aircraft raised itself off the lifts and he urged it forward as fast as he dared down the pathway toward the open air.

As soon as they burst out of the cave, Illya began flipping more switches while the chopper/jet/saucer jerked around a little unsteadily. Suddenly there was a ball of flame on left side.

"Bloody 'ell, what's happening?" Mark shouted over the noise of the aircraft.

"Something hit the left jet engine! The rotor blades are failing! Still trying to start the right engine! See if there are parachutes! Jump if there are!" Illya's eyes never left the control panel, but he could see April in his peripheral vision still sitting stoically in the co – pilot's seat.

After the longest six seconds of their lives, the right engine came to life and the jet leveled out. "Napoleon!"

"On it, Tovarisch!" He opened up his communicator. "Open Channel D. Priority One, mayday! Emergency! Advise Nellis we are coming in hot! Do you read me?"

"Quite clearly, Mr. Solo; you needn't shout. Nellis is expecting you. The UNCLE jet will pick you up from there."

"Thank you, Sir. Solo out."

MFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFUMFU

The four agents headed to the Commissary after being debriefed by the Old Man. Wordlessly, they had all decided that coffee was in order before they began putting together their written reports. After paying, they went to their favorite table even though, at 2AM, there really wasn't anyone else around to overhear their conversation.

"So," Napoleon stated after slurping his coffee, "what do you think the Air Force is going to tell the press to explain a fiery UFO? I'm betting a variation on weather balloon story."

"Darling, I think they'll say we were a hot air balloon. Illya, what do you think?"

"Meteor; that is what my government always says when rocket tests fail. A meteor is what we will be. I have a question for you. I yelled for all of you to find parachutes and jump. Why did you not do it? I almost could not start the engine; UNCLE would have lost its top two teams instead of one agent."

Napoleon stared at the blond for a second before speaking. "Oh, is _that _what you said? I didn't hear you and you were busy with the controls so I didn't think, ah, it was the time to ask you to repeat yourself." He shrugged, "Sorry."

Mark said, "I couldn't 'ear you either, mate."

Illya turned to April. "You were sitting next to me."

"Sorry, Darling, my ears were clogged from the changes in altitude."

The Russian looked from one to the other. "How can you be agents when you are such _bad_ liars?" His face flushed slightly. "Thank you for not leaving me. I, I will not forget, _ever_, that you chose to stay." He swiped at his eyes fast and stood up. "Our reports will not write themselves." He started to walk toward the exit knowing his colleagues, his _friends_, were right behind him.


End file.
